CHAINED FLOWERS ( z. dragneel )

08 | "the fighter"

08
{ the fighter. }

-

' h e
w h o
f o r g e t s '

- -

"ESEN, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?"

Concern paints his face as Esen traipses toward him, her clothes damp with lakewater. The fire he created blazes against the night sky. Esen's heart beat loudly against her ribcage, her fists clenched on her sides. Everything has stopped being murky now, this curse, no punishment. It's all Esen's fault.

This was always meant for the two of them, her other lovers a manifestation of her father's concern. He hoped to delay their inevitable meeting, but the celestial creatures are shaken as a new era for magic begins. The dragon king readies his claws and his power and Ankhseram has no choice but to deal with it rather than his daughter falling for the boy he has cursed.

"It's... Zeref... it's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

She nods her head yes. "I'm okay now," her voice is chilly, as if the walls of ice she had erected for many centuries are back in their full, insurmountable glory. "I need some sleep."

"You're going to catch a cold," he tells her, and hands her the white fabric from his clothes. It's getting colder by the second and she tries to move closer to the fire he created to gain some warmth, but Zeref blocks her way. "At least change. You can wear my cloak for the meantime."

She wants to question him, go against his wishes, but Esen can't meet his eyes and expect herself to maintain that placid expression on her face. Gods, she'll break down into puddles of tears.

Esen accepts the white fabric, murmurs a short thanks and she changes behind a tree, pulling and tying the fabric in all the right places so it covers her body. In the end, it looks like a Grecian dress encircling around her neck, her limbs exposed. Esen sighs. At least it's dry.

Zeref looks away, embarassed by the amount of skin she's showing or the absurd number of scars littering her skin, she doesn't know. She forces to not care too.

Esen settles herself next to the flame, folding in on herself as the crackles of firewood enters her ear. She sleeps and ignores the beating of her heart from all the lies she spun.

Their entire ordeal is difficult, but Esen knows that she has to find a way to get through this. It is difficult, but she has to. The next morning arrives. He tells her good morning and ask if she's okay. Her response is a weak nod. Her clothes are dried now so she changes back into them and washes his white cloth. They don't talk for the rest of the day.

She maintains her silence.

At first it costs her sleepless weeks punctured with shy smiles and looking away from the boy who has done nothing wrong but smile at her.

She should tell him, she knows that he has the right to know. They both started this, they are both responsible, and it is their shared right to know about this curse festering within themselves.

But Esen can't!

Weeks continue to pass, the terrains changing as they pass mountains. She can smell the ocean, granted, it is still faraway, but that small tingle of salt melding with fish and water is so prominent. The breeze is warm and on their feet, they could see particles of sand mixed with the muddy brown of the soil. Even small sea creatures have started to surface. She can see cracks of seashells along the way and Esen's mind is floating along to different places that some fragments cut at her legs. They draw blood, but she ignores the tinges of pain.